


Kleos

by prozacpark



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M, Hero Cults, Hero Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:06:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prozacpark/pseuds/prozacpark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He would never be a greater warrior than Achilles, but he could be the stronger man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kleos

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Thamiris for Yuletide 2005.

Glory always makes the blood of women flow. -Nichole Loraux, _Tragic Ways of Killing a Woman_

  
Neoptolemus' first mistake, like his father's, was that he did not kill her when he first met her.

When he killed King Priam in the Trojan palace, she had been the first to run towards his dead body. She had cried and screamed things at him in a language he hadn't been here long enough to understand.

The blood was still dripping from his sword, and she too became soaked with blood. But she was not scared and seemed to almost invite him to kill her. That was his undoing.

When he left the royal palace, he only took her with him, leaving his men behind to loot other treasures.

\---

When he asked her, she didn't tell him her name. He knew she was a Trojan princess; that much was apparent from her dress and her demeanor. But the rumor had it that there were well over a hundred of them.

Returning to the Greek camps, he found Thrasymedes waiting for him. "What have you brought with you?" He asked when he saw him, and Neoptolemus did not like the tone of his voice.

He knew that if he let his father's men treat him like a child now, he would never be anything else to them. He was always quick to remind them that he was the greatest fighter among them, even if he wasn't as good as the Great Achilles.

He had never met his father, but his life, even the littlest details of it, was the subject songs were made of. One did not have to come to Troy to hear the praises of Achilles; they were famous the world over while his own name was unknown to most of his companions. So when Thrasymedes told him the name of his prize princess, he knew instantly who she was.

Polyxena. He remembered hearing that name. She was the Trojan princess Achilles had fallen in love with and offered to make peace in return for her hand in marriage.

Thrasymedes confirmed this, adding, "This is the Trojan bitch who betrayed Achilles. He had gone to meet her at the temple."

Neoptolemus remembered this vaguely. His father had been attacked at the temple of Apollo when he was unprepared.

Thrasymedes placed a hand on his sword and took a step towards Polyxena, who stood her ground. Neoptolemus stepped in between them and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Achilles must be avenged," Thrasymedes explained and he was like a man possessed, ready to push him out of the way to get to Polyxena.

"Not this way," he placed his hand over the sword, applying more pressure than was needed to keep Thrasymedes from drawing it.

"But she betrayed your father," he tried again. And he did not understand that that was why Neoptolemus wanted her for himself.

She never loved Achilles, hated him in fact, and everyone had loved Achilles. The Greeks worshipped him, the Trojans feared him, but not without respect. Even Briseis, whom Achilles had stolen from her home after slaying her husband, did nothing but lament over the loss of the Great Achilles. The Greeks had given her to Neoptolemus, but he had not touched her. She was lovely and kind, but he didn't want his father's cast-offs. Hadn't he done enough here to deserve a prize of his own?

"I found her; she's mine," he said now, firmly.

"You would have her over Hector's wife?"

He felt his patience leave as he distantly recalled that Andromache had been promised to Achilles when Troy fell. After all, the greatest of the Greek heroes deserved nothing less than the wife of the bravest Trojan warrior. And now, he was to have her, but would they have been so kind as to offer her to him if Achilles were still here? He wanted no part of his father's legacy; he was here to create his own.

So he said, "Thrasymedes, you were a great friend to my father, and I would like you to be my friend, too. But leave this matter be. Achilles is dead. He would not begrudge me this prize. I would not take what was meant for him. Give Andromache to some other king."

Thrasymedes nodded and giving Polyxena one last look, walked out.

\---

He was his father's son in that he liked courting death. With the fight over, he grew restless and waited impatiently for the winds to blow so he could go home. Unlike other warriors, who had been here for a decade, he had not wished for the conflict to be over so soon. He had not even been here a year, but he was young and there would be other conquests.

The Greeks did not come to him nor called him for the drawing of the lots, and when they finally came, they brought Hector's widow with them. They were going to give her to him after all.

Had he seen her earlier, he would've never refused her. Aside from her status as Hector's wife, she would've been no great prize to another man. Her eyes were dark and vacant, and she stared unseeingly into space. She registered everything, but responded to nothing. She seemed as dead as anyone could be without lying in a grave, and Neoptolemus, like his father, could not resist dead things. But there was the slightest spark of anger and hatred when her eyes met his. And he knew that this girl was no Briseis. She would hate him for taking her until she died, and that thought made her appealing.

Before they left, they told him that as Achilles' son, it was only right that he should get his share of the spoils, too. He resented them for that. He was being favored because of his father, and not because of anything he had accomplished.

He turned his anger towards the woman they had left behind and found her repelling. Only now did he notice the soot tainting her cheeks and the ashes in her hair. There was dried blood on her hands and her clothes. He called for Briseis and asked her to take Andromache away to the woman's camp.

\---

He dreamed of his father that night, and Achilles had no words of praise for his son, only demands that needed appeasing.

He woke up to find the world around him was still dark, and he remembered what his father had demanded of him and he tried to push the thought of the sacrifice away from his mind. Achilles had not had his fill of blood in his lifetime. And here, Neoptolemus knew, was finally something he could have that his father couldn't. So he had one of the Myrmidons summon Polyxena to him.

When she arrived, she was quiet and compliant, and that surprised him. She did not say a word and took in her surroundings with a serenity that unnerved him.

He sat down on his bed, and she caught his meaning. Wordlessly, she slipped off her cloak and joined him. He pulled her close and kissed her, and she didn't turn away. She returned his kisses with an intensity that matched his own, and he wasn't yet awake enough to find this out of the ordinary.

What she did next brought him out of his daze at once. Just as he began to let down his guard, she bit down on his tongue hard. He yelped in surprise and pulled his mouth away from hers, digging into the flesh of her arms hard to make her let go. Before he could recover, she picked up the dagger by his pillow and she stabbed him with it. He twisted the dagger out of her hands and pushed her off of him with force. She landed on the floor and gave out a quite whimper as the hard ground scratched her skin.

He looked at his wound. Her aim was good and the blade had ended up near his chest, but her thrust hadn't been strong enough to do much damage. He could feel the wound throbbing, and he pressed the bed linen on to it as he turned his gaze towards his attacker. He did not doubt now that this woman had been the downfall of the Great Achilles. She had lured his father into giving out his secret, and she had led to his death.

He stood up and walked to where she had fallen, and she didn't even budge. She wasn't scared of him and that intrigued him. He should have killed her then, for what she had tried to do, but instead, he asked if she was all right.

She didn't answer his question, and so he asked, "Do you love death so much that you would court it?"

"Better to be dead than to be a slave," she replied.

He stared at her for a long moment, and then said, "And if I were to make you my queen?"

There was only a moment when she gazed back at him with uncertainty, and several emotions seemed to flicker across her face. Then she blinked and smirked, "I would rather be a slave than marry a murdering barbarian."

He considered taking the dagger that lay on the bed and giving her what she longed for, but he knew that he would regret it later. And that's what she wanted, no doubt. He could have done many things to make her regret saying that, but in the end, he decided against all of them. He called his guard in and told him to take Polyxena back to the women's camp, and he asked for someone to come look at his wound.

\---

The next morning brought the news that they could not sail to Greece until the appropriate sacrifices had been made. Their prophet had declared that Achilles could not be left alone on the island, and there needed to be a sacrifice to mark the end of the war, one as great as the one that marked its beginning.

When they consulted Neoptolemus about who should be sacrificed, he did not hesitate to share his dream with them.

He was determined to not repeat his father's mistake and last night had taught him that Polyxena would never be his. It had been the desire to possess her that had been the downfall of Achilles, and while Neoptolemus would never be a greater warrior than his father, he could certainly be the stronger man.

He could resist the charms of the Trojan princess while his father had been unable to. Achilles could have Polyxena all to himself, and he would set sail for Greece after the maiden had been sacrificed to his father.

When he told the assembly of his decision, no one objected. Everyone was relieved that Achilles had not demanded the sacrifice of a maiden that had been allotted to them. Neoptolemus resented them for not coming to Polyxena's aid, even as he himself doomed her to an unspeakable fate.

\---

That night, he dreamed of her. In his dream, she cried and begged him to save her, and in the land of Morpheus, he was able to keep fate from taking its course.

He woke up wanting her, and almost called on his servants to summon her to him. Then he remembered that she was not his to take. She had been promised to Achilles, and her virginity was a sacred thing now.

He did not sleep again that night.

\---

The preparations for the sacrifice went as planned in the morning, and Odysseus informed him that he was to be the priest at the processions.

When he went to see Polyxena, Hecuba begged him to spare her daughter's life. He told her that it was beyond his power to save people who did not want to be saved. Polyxena sat in a corner, staring off into space. She did not stand to greet him, not even when he addressed her. He stared at her for a few moments before finally sitting beside her.

"I suppose you're getting what you wanted. Are you happy now?" he asked her, wanting to bring it up and wanting her to know that he controlled her life now.

"As much as can be expected," she replied.

Not quite getting her meaning, his mind wandered onto a possibility he hadn't considered before and he found himself wondering if this really was what she wanted. "Did you love Achilles?"

She looked at him and smiled but did not say anything. Finally, she turned away, and he said, "It does not have to end this way."

"How else would it end?"

"I can stop this, even now."

"You think so, don't you? The entire army is prepared to appease Achilles, and you think you can stop them from honoring their hero?"

He did not want to think that she was right, but he wondered how it would be if he tried to change things now. Would they listen to him over the ghost of Achilles?

He did not answer her question, and getting to his feet, he left her. He could feel her gaze following him out the door.

\---

When he saw her again, she was dressed in saffron robes and stood in front of Achilles' tomb.

She addressed him as he picked up the sacrificial knife on the altar and touched the ropes that were placed there. "There's no need for restraints," she said, "I go from here willingly."

He nodded and she knelt before him. Silence fell over the army as he stood over her, and she seemed to be in a trance.

He said, "If you hope for some god to sweep you away to safety, princess, you hope in vain. Gods forsook this city long ago."

She looked up at him, and silently, reached for the broach that held her robes together. He watched as she undid the clasp and let her robes fall to her waist, exposing her chest. His eyes wandered over her breasts and he could hear the uproar her actions had caused in the crowd.

She looked up at him, and he met her gaze. The men behind him continued to whisper, but he understood why she had done that. Though she was ready to be sacrificed, she still wanted the death of a warrior. Animals died by having their throats cut, and she had been a princess and deserved better. She wanted him to strike her on her chest.

"I'm ready," she said. "Go ahead."

He considered for a moment what she was asking for and said, "Even the great Achilles did not die the death of a hero. Do you think yourself better than him?"

"Do you?" She asked, "Do you think you'll fare any better than he did? Think you'll die a more glorious death? He was a far better man than you'll ever be."

His grip on the knife tightened and he felt a thin trickle of blood run down his hand. He did not want to tie her mouth, as they had done for Iphigenia. He did not fear the curses she may lay upon him and his house.

He reached with his knife and held on to her shoulder as he slit her throat. She whimpered and her eyes fluttered. He held on to her, dropping his knife. As blood trickled out slowly, he caressed her cheek and her neck. Her breathing was shallow now, but he knew that the wound was not deep enough and it will be a while before she died.

Too late, he wanted to save her. But she would not be making any more pleas, so he reached for his sword and struck it in her chest and made it quicker. There was a final gasp, and when she fell to the floor, he caught her and laid her down gently.

He could hear the men around him turning and starting to walk away, but he remained by her. He straightened her bent knees and took her robes and covered her chest, fastening the clasp as it had been before.

He heard the sound of steps behind him and turned to see Thrasymedes standing there with wild flowers in his hands. He did not meet Neoptolemus' gaze and bent down besides Polyxena and lay the flowers on her. Neoptolemus turned to see more men behind him and around him, some bringing libations of wine and others flowers and robes to lay on the corpse. Baffled by this display and disgusted by their tears, Neoptolemus got on his feet and left the body to its worshippers.

As he walked back to the camp, he heard them whisper about how brave Polyxena had been, how solemn, and how she had accepted her fate so willingly. Yet none of them had been willing to save her because they did not want heroes who were not dead, and Neoptolemus wondered how they had treated his own father when he was alive.

He himself did not pay any respects to Polyxena's corpse, but he let them have their heroine. He knew that he would not stop them from building her a tomb besides Achilles', and he would not tell them how she had whimpered before dying and how she had shed tears. He would let her be as they wanted her to be.

\--end--


End file.
